Page 100 of Summer with the Single Dad

He carefully set down her legs on the bed, got up to go to the bathroom and get her a washcloth, returning less than a minute later with a warm, wet cloth which he gently slid between her legs to mop up the mess he made. Though, truthfully, he fucking loved watching his cum seep out of her. It was a primal, animalistic high that he neither recognized nor wanted to dismiss. Something about Justine made him lose all sense of composure. She brought out his inhibitions, and he smiled so much more when she was around too.

“I’m going to pee,” she said, her voice hoarse as she slipped out from beneath the tangled white sheets and padded naked to the bathroom.

He climbed back into bed and tucked his hands behind his head, staring up at the low ceiling.

He was chuckling to himself about butthole chocolates when she returned, climbing into the bed beside him and curling up against his body, her hand on his chest. “What’s got you chuckling?”

“Butthole chocolates,” he said, still laughing slightly.

She grinned, and he kissed her head.

“Do you think saying ‘fuck’ while fucking is like saying ‘parkour’ while doing parkour?” he asked the moment that odd, random thought popped into his head. Well, okay, maybe it wasn’t that random. He was still reflecting on his choice of words as he came.

She snorted and sat up a little, staring down at him. “What?”

“Well, you know those crazy people who do parkour and leap from building to building, trying to come up with the most convoluted and dangerous way to get from point A to point B?”

“I’m familiar with the dangerous sport. Saw quite a few parkour idiots in the ER when I was an intern.”

“Right. And a lot of them will shout, ‘parkour’ as they’re trying to become organ donors.”

She snorted again. “Yes.”

“So shouting ‘fuck’ while fucking is kind of the same thing. No?”

She gaped down at him for a moment, then burst into raucous laughter that warmed his heart. “That’s … terrible, but also very accurate.”

“I’m simply reflecting on my choice of language.” Heat rushed into his cheeks. “I’m sorry if I got a little out of hand, and perhaps offensive.”

Her brown eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Oh, don’t apologize. It was hot.”

“Maybe I should start shouting ‘Tabarnak!’ when I come. Hmm?”

She barked out another infectious laugh and slapped his chest. “Oh god, that will give me cringey-daddy vibes.”

He chuckled and reached up, cupping her face. “I hope you’ll still come and have dinner with us once in a while. The girls would love it.”

“Just the girls?”

“I would too.”

She leaned down and kissed him.

“So is this the new norm? I sneak into the trailer at night, or you sneak into the house?”

“Do you want to tell the girls about us? Seems awfully early. We don’t even know what this is.”

“It’s two people who care deeply about each other having parkour.”

She snorted again.

“I mean, we can also just keep having sex against trees every morning on our runs. Make a goal to fuc—sorry, I mean parkour—against as many trees as we can this summer.”

Her laugh only made him smile more.

“Why did two people at the funfair yesterday refer to you as Mr. Serious? I don’t see that at all. They said of all the McEvoy brothers you are the most dour and smile the least. I mean, I don’t know your brothers that well, but from who I have met, Dom seems to be the most dour.”

“He’s the shyest. He puts it on for the patrons at the bar, but it takes a lot out of him. He’s an introvert. He loves his job and he loves customers, but when he’s done for the night, he is done with people. He doesn’t want to talk to anybody but his kid for at least twelve hours.”

---